The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1887-05-04
The Convict's Daughter.

IA luS year lou JOllu IldIlOW SldlteI
for San Francisco, CAL, on tour Of
recreation from long course of lega
study. Nothing of special note occurred
to relieve the tediousness of his journey
he arrived at his destination much shat
tered and fatigued. Immediate rest was
needed, so he sought a boarding house in
dull, quiet part of the city, and for some
days enjoyed the seclusion and rest he
stood so much in need of. His meals were
brought to his room, and therefore he had
no opportunity to make the acquaintance
of his fellow -boarders. The house was
run by matronly- looking woman named
Wentworth, whose only weakness seemed
to be her voluble tongue. However, she
stoned somewhat for this in the excellent
quality of her menu. and, as this is the
paramount object sought for in board
ing-house, whatever foib!es she possessed
In the eyes of her tenants were graciously
overlooked.
Her daughter, a comely young girl of
seventeen years, assisted her in the
household duties and at evening usually
entertained the house with pleasing
music on the piano. One evening as
Harlow was enjoying a fragrant
Havana in his room, and musing retro
spectively over old scenes and faces, the
soft plaintive strains of delicate but
musical voice seemed to emanste from
tb ,arlor below. There was something
in the tone of the voice that told him he
had never heard it there before. The air
spoke volumes of sadness and breathed
such pathos and distress that he turned
involuntarily in his chair, and noticing in
the mirror at the other side of the room
what change it had wrought in his
features, he jumped mp suddenly and was
about to shut out the voice from his
hearing, when it suddenly stopped. The
music had piqued his curiosity. He
would know the owner of that pathetic
voice.
The chatting of two women below told
him that some lady friend of Bertha
Mrs. Wentworth's daughtcr-was prob
ably paying her friendly visit. He
dressed himself hastily and repaired to
the parlor, where, under the pretext of
wishing to be called early in the morning,
he had opportunity of speaking to Bertha.
She seemed pleased to be of service to
him and invited him in. The Rubicon
passed, he was soon engaged in dclecta.
bic conversation with Cora Lane, to whom
he had been introduced by Bertha:
Of all fair faces he had ever seen here
was the fairest. There was an air of
melancholy suffusing the entire features
that seemed in keeping with the sad, blue
eyes, the expression of which completely
charmed him. Something indefnable in
her sweet, gentle manner, felt its way
deeply into his breast and caused it to
beat with rapture. He could have sat for
hours and contemplated her lovely face,
SO great was his infatuation.
That night as he lay on his couch, with
the picture of one fair face engrossing his
every thought, he felt, he knew, that
Cora Lane was the only woman he would
ever love. It was late the next morning
when lie arose, despite the fact that
Bertha had done his bidding.
His first impulse was to rush to her and
learn all she knew of Cora, but better
Judgment prevailed. He concluded to
ascertain through quiet inquiries all he
could about his new-found love. Bertha,
however, anticipated him. She saw, with
woman's quickness, the profound look
Of admiration on his visage as he sat gaz-
ing at her friend the night. previous, and
intuitively surmising that he wished to
know something of her friend, told him
of her own accord all that she knew.
"Cora was employed as salcslady in a
millinery establishment She was twenty
years old, was supposed to he an orphan,
and came originally from the East"
This was all Bertha knew of her, al
though she dwelt eloquently on her ami
able manners and goodness of heart.
Every night for two weeks Harlow saw
his love safely home, but not as an cs-
cort. He could not nerve himself to meet
those great blue eyes, for he felt that the
venture would lead him to a passionate
ayowal of the love that was surging
against his heart Ikea vast billow. No,
he must strive to beat down the vehement
attachment that was almost consuming
him and let time shape his fortunes.
Harlow had passed two evenings at the
house of Cora, and each time he set eyes
on her some newborn charm revealed it.
self to his enamored vision. A certain
air of constant reserve in her demeanor
awed down all efforts on his part to di-
vulge the dictates of his heart. If the
mellow gaze that wreathed her face at
times conveyed to his mind the looks of
reciprocal affection, its relaxation into q
moody, apathetic stare dispcllcd the fe-
licitous thought. Still, his manner and
conversation appeared to please and en-
tertaln her, and at times she grew elo-
queut in her responses.
One gentle moonlight evening, when
the stars studded the vaultcd heaven
with unwonted br.lliancy and bracinc
breezes stole softly through the trees and
flowers, bringing with them the i'll
vigoratirg influences OF a balmy evening
in Nay, Harlow unbosomed his heart to
her. He told her in impassioned tones
of his alteration; how life without her
would be dismal blank; how he had
watched her night after night, and felt
happy to know that he was close to the
woman whom he loved; how eagerly he
had looked forward to the time when he
could tell her all. She listened demure
ly, with downcast eyes, but uttered not
q word. That she did not demonstrate
with him rcconcied him to the belief that
the afFet tion was mutual. At last she
spoke and her melodious voice thrilled
hin with delight.